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neighborhood and to a small shopping center with a little café.
    Parking behind her, he jogged to her side to offer his hand in assisting her from her car. She placed her hand in his as she alighted from the vehicle. She felt him squeeze her fingers before letting go, noting the sparks tingling long after the release. Wiggling her fingers, she wondered why this man had such a strong effect on her.
    Entering the café, the warm interior was inviting and they found a small booth toward the back. Once the coffee was ordered, they sat, both analyzing each other. Unbeknownst to her, he also felt the tingle from their touch. Unused to such reactions, he wondered about the beautiful woman sitting across from him.
    “So…um…are you with the FBI?” she asked, wanting to break the awkward silence. She wrapped her hands around the hot cup, hoping its warmth would thaw her freezing fingers.
    “No,” he answered. “I work for a private investigation company that Mr. Krustas has contracted.”
    “Oh,” Faith replied, not sure what working for a private investigation company entailed.
    Bart grinned as he leaned back in his seat, stretching his long legs to either side of hers. “And you? How does one become a psychologist and artist?”
    Smiling in return as she relaxed a little, she answered, “I was always interested in people. And art was a way for me to express myself. I only work part-time for the sheriff’s department. They call me in when they need me. So I also teach art part time at the local elementary school.”
    “Part time?”
    Sighing heavily as she absentmindedly twirled a lock of ebony hair, she nodded. “With budget cuts, the arts often are on the chopping block when the school systems have to cut costs. So I work three days a week at the elementary school teaching art and then I’m on call for the police department.”
    Bart quickly estimated what her income would be with the two part-time jobs and was curious how she managed to make a living. His eyes dropped to her clothes. Neat, clean, but not new.
    She watched his eyes assess her and wondered what he thought. She noticed the woman behind the counter strip Bart with her eyes and the waitress had freshened their coffee twice already, trying desperately to get his attention. She noticed his quick grin and wink at the waitress and wondered if he realized how many hearts probably broke every day when he would smile and then walk away. Oh yeah. I definitely get a feeling about him!
    Drawn to her like a moth to the light, Bart wanted to know more about her. She appeared immune to his charm, but that only made her more attractive to him. “Tell me more about yourself.”
    Giving a shrug, she admitted, “There’s not much to tell. I was raised in the Charlestown area by my mom and grandmother. They’ve both passed now.” She twisted the napkin on the table, her nerves taut. Why does he make me so nervous? It’s hard to clear my mind and think with his overpowering, testosterone, devilishly-handsome presence opposite of me! A giggle erupted as she thought of her description of him.
    Bart wondered what she was thinking that would make her laugh, unintentionally drawing focus to her perfect lips. Quirking his eyebrow, he noticed her blush. “Are you all right?”
    “Yes,” she said, clearing her throat. “I…um…sorry. I just had a silly thought.” He must think I’m an idiot! Determined to redeem herself, she quickly asked, “And you? What does an independent investigator do?”
    Knowing she was attempting to lead the conversation away from whatever had made her laugh, he played along. He leaned back again, managing to move his leg so that it touched hers.
    She attempted to shift her leg over but found them trapped between his.
    Before she could protest, he said, “I was a SEAL, then did a year with Border Patrol when I was medically discharged. Found that I hated the red-tape that went along with our assignments, so when I heard about Saints